


Johnlock One-shots

by TheBookWriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ouran High School Host Club Fusion, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multiple Crossovers, Parentlock, Romance, my little pony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBookWriter/pseuds/TheBookWriter
Summary: Just a random collection of some Johnlock stories.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	1. Hot Cocoa & Cookies

A few days after John had returned from Russia found him sitting on the sofa during a snowy afternoon, feeling slightly drowsy with a blanket drawn around his shoulders. Sherlock was currently in the kitchen, and John could hear sounds that meant Sherlock was hard at work within.

"John!" Sherlock called after a minute. "Do you want whipped topping or marshmallows in your cocoa?"

"Dunno. Surprise me," John called back.

A minute or so later Sherlock emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tray set with two mugs full of steaming hot cocoa and a large plate of fresh-baked snicker-doodles. John raised his eyebrows.

"Uh...wow," he said, an incredulous smile quickly forming on his face.

Sherlock smiled as he sat down beside John, setting the tray on the low table before handing John his cup.

"Careful, it's quite warm," he said.

"Thanks, love."

Glancing at his mug's contents, John felt an odd flipping sensation in his stomach. 

Sherlock had added marshmallows, but had arranged them neatly in a heart shape. John felt his mouth twitch with amusement. It was so cheesy for Sherlock to do something like this, yet so sweet.

"What?" Sherlock said, noticing John's expression.

"Nothing," John said, bending his head over the drink so Sherlock couldn't see the smile he was trying to hide. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Taking a cautious sip at the hot cocoa, John's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he looked at Sherlock.

"Did you add something else to this?" he asked.

"Just a bit of milk to make it creamy," Sherlock answered. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's great!" John took another sip. "I love it!"

"You're quite welcome, John," Sherlock said, taking a sip from his own cup. 

After a moment's consideration, Sherlock leaned forward and plucked one of the cookies off the plate, offering it to John. John smirked as he accepted it.

"You're not trying to fatten me up with sweets, are you?" he said.

Sherlock laughed. "Of course not."

"Oh good," John said around a mouthful. "I was getting worried." 

He swallowed and finished the cookie in two more bites, licking crumbs from his lips. Without thinking about it, he accepted the cookie Sherlock was offering him, not noticing the warmth that was gradually spreading through his lower abdomen. Nor did he question it when Sherlock took John's empty cup from his hands and set it on the table. He turned back to John with a hungry look in his eyes that sent a shiver down John's spine. Then when Sherlock leaned closer and kissed him, John pulled him closer, keeping his mouth open and wet as Sherlock's tongue slipped into his mouth.

"You taste so sweet," Sherlock murmured after a minute. "You really enjoyed those cookies, didn't you?"

Sherlock's hand was on John's crotch now, rubbing teasingly at his trapped erection. John whimpered and pressed closer to the feeling, his head going foggy with pleasure. God, he hadn't felt like this in a long time. He could barely even stay focused on what Sherlock was saying.

"I think that's enough of me being a tease, hmm?" Sherlock said. "How about I help you out with this problem?"

.....

A little while later, Molly had come by the complex to pay a visit to Mrs. Hudson. 

After a while of chatting, Molly said "So how are John and Sherlock doing?"

"Quite well, actually," said Mrs. Hudson with a knowing smile. "Never seen them this happy before. You'd think they'd never been separated." Her eyes fell on bag Molly had brought with her. "I take it that's a welcome back gift?" she said.

Molly nodded. "D'you think it'd be all right if I took this up to them?"

"I think you'd better just leave it with me," Mrs. Hudson said. "They'll be rather occupied this evening."

The words had scarcely come out of her mouth when there was a loud yell from overhead. Although Molly couldn't hear what was said, she could easily recognize John's voice, followed by a distinct thud. She didn't have to be told what was going on to understand what John and Sherlock were doing, but it was enough to make her blush and say awkwardly "O-Oh...have they been at it very long?"

"About ten minutes," answered Mrs. Hudson, in a tone of voice like Molly had inquired about the weather. She sighed happily. "I'm so happy for them. To have finally come to terms with their feelings for each other, after all this time. It's almost storybook isn't it?" 

"Uh...yeah. I guess..." Molly muttered. _Crikey! Is this old woman drunk or is she actually bloody serious right now?_

After a rather awkward pause, Mrs. Hudson returned to the present.

"Right. I think I'll just hang on to that present for you then," she said. "I'll make sure they get it after things have calmed down."

"Erm, okay. Thanks."

With that Molly hastily left the building, her cheeks still flushed with color as she stepped out onto the street.

_Holy shit,_ she thought. _Merry fucking Christmas indeed!_


	2. Back Off, Mycroft!

John stepped into the elevator, and Mycroft stepped in after him. John was silently surprised at this. He'd half expected Mycroft to send a guard up with him instead, and yet here he was, standing right next to John as the elevator door slid shut. He pushed the button for the tenth floor, and a moment later the elevator began it ascent. For a while, there was complete silence. Mycroft was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable, though every so often John saw his eyes focus on him. After a while, John began to feel slightly uncomfortable. He had the impression that Mycroft had something to say, but just as he was about to ask what it was, Mycroft broke the silence. 

"I never thanked you, you know," he said quietly.

John blinked. "For what?"

"You saved my life in Russia," Mycroft said. "I've never had the chance to express my gratitude."

"Oh," John answered, starting to feel uneasy. The way Mycroft's eyes were trained on his...he didn't like it. And it wasn't just Mycroft's eyes. John hadn't noticed before, but it suddenly occurred to him that the elevator seemed uncomfortably small, with only a couple feet separating himself and Mycroft. Then Mycroft turned to John and stepped nearer, causing John to quickly step back, immediately finding his back to the wall.

John shut his eyes, wishing that the elevator would stop and open its doors soon. 

Luckily, the elevator chose that moment to do just that. John almost sighed with relief, and then went cold when he saw Sherlock standing in the hall. 

To a stranger, Sherlock's face would have appeared devoid of any hostility. But neither Mycroft or John had the luxury of such ignorance. They knew what lurked under the mask of polite interest on Sherlock's face: a seething mixture of suspicion and anger, both of which were solely aimed at Mycroft. Only a fool would dare try and provoke him now.

Relieved to at last be out of the elevator, John quickly stepped past Mycroft and went to hug Sherlock. Sherlock's eyes gave nothing away as they embraced, but John could feel his concern in the way Sherlock held him close, one hand moving up to rub the back of John's head, soothing him. John couldn't help hiding his face in Sherlock's coat, his own fingers clenching the material of Sherlock's coat. Sherlock felt John's hands where they were tensed on his back. He glared suspiciously at Mycroft over John's shoulder. But his voice was low and calm as he spoke into John's ear.

"Have a good drive?"

John nodded against him.

"You're probably exhausted. Why don't you go on ahead to bed? I have something I need to tell Mycroft first."

Despite the fact Sherlock's reply sounded casual, John could feel an underlying sense of danger. In this case it couldn't have been clearer what Sherlock was actually telling him: "Go to our room. Now." 

John knew better than to argue with him. 

"All right."

Before letting John go, Sherlock took a moment to kiss John's cheek. John blushed a little, but said nothing as Sherlock released him and walked over to the elevator. John quickly set off down the hall, and didn't stop until he'd reached the room Sherlock had indicated. He stepped inside quickly, and shut the door before leaning against it and breathing a long sigh of relief. That had been too close for comfort. John crossed his arms over his chest, running one hand over his eyes. He really hoped that he was wrong about Mycroft's intentions back there, but he couldn't be sure. One thing was for certain though. Sherlock hadn't been happy to find Mycroft alone with John in an elevator. Under different circumstances, John would've just chocked it up to Sherlock being possessive, but considering how bad things were, John had a feeling that Sherlock wasn't going to let Mycroft off with just a mere warning.

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Mycroft were standing side by side in the elevator as it returned to the first floor. Neither said anything. Sherlock stared straight ahead. His eyes had changed color again, and were now a cold iron grey. 

Mycroft, for his part, didn't dare risk more than a sideways glance at his brother. The atmosphere that hung around Sherlock was cold and menacing. In fact, Mycroft wasn't wholly convinced that trying to explain what had happened wouldn't end with Sherlock biting his head off. Then Sherlock turned so sharply in his direction that Mycroft jumped. When Sherlock's eyes locked onto his, Mycroft suddenly had the horrible feeling of being placed under a microscope. It was like Sherlock was looking straight through him.

"All right, listen up," Sherlock snarled. "I don't know what happened back there, and I don't care to find out. But I swear to God Mycroft- if I **_EVER_** find you that close to John again, I swear I'll _fucking **KILL** you_!"

At that moment there was a soft ping and the elevator doors slid open. In that second Sherlock's face changed from a loathing scowl to the brightest smile. To Mycroft, it was absolutely terrifying.

"Well, good night!" Sherlock said happily.

And with a hard shove he sent Mycroft stumbling out of the elevator and into the lobby.


	3. Sleeptalk & Breakfast

John woke some time in the night from a slight ache in his shoulder. Turning onto his side, he heard Sherlock make a faint sound of protest as he sat up and stretched, shivering a little from the cold winter night. After a moment or two the slight pain in John's shoulder went away, and it was with a sleepy yawn that he settled back down beside Sherlock, Sherlock's arms pulling John close to him, burrowing his face into John's shoulder with a sigh of contentment.

"John," Sherlock mumbled.

"Sherlock?"

"My John," Sherlock murmured. "I love you."

John smiled in the dark. "I love you too."

"I love you, John," Sherlock said. "I love you, I love you."

"Sherlock?" John said, now trying to hold back a giggle. "Are you all right?"

"I love you," Sherlock repeated again. "I love you I love you I love you."

_Yep, okay. He's definitely sleep talking!_ John thought.

Shutting his eyes, he let Sherlock continue his sleepy declaration of love until finally, he drifted off to sleep.

When John woke up again, it was in the early hours of the morning. It had snowed again during the night, and in the pale gray light of dawn London was peaceful under a gleaming layer of fresh white snow.

Sitting up, John could hear sounds in the kitchen that meant Sherlock was busy preparing breakfast. Stifling a yawn, John pulled on his shirt and trousers and then walked into the kitchen, his pace quickened by the slight chill in the air and the delicious aroma that was currently wafting from the kitchen. 

As John came up beside Sherlock at the stove, he was surprised to see that not only was Sherlock cooking, but he was somehow managing to prepare three different items at once. There were pancakes, scrambled eggs and a pan of bacon. 

However, what surprised Sherlock the most was the fact Sherlock was not only cooking, but that he had so far managed to keep everything from burning. It was absolutely astonishing.

Sherlock seemed to notice John's astonishment. Without looking up from what he was doing, he smiled and said "There's tea and toast for you at the table. You'd best get to it before it gets cold."

John stared at him in disbelief, feeling a smile forming on his face.

"Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock laughed. "Go eat your toast, John."

"All right, if you insist," John said with a slight laugh.

As he sat down at the dinner table, John reached for the plate Sherlock had prepared for him and started eating the warm toast, occasionally taking sips of tea.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had finished cooking and was shoveling a generous amount of food onto John's plate. John had come back from Russia looking quite thin, and Sherlock was determined that John should eat plenty of healthy food for the next couple of weeks to gain back some of his lost weight. 

As he carried both of their plates to the table, Sherlock was satisfied when he saw that John had quickly finished his two pieces of toast. John for his part looked astonished when he saw how much food Sherlock had given him.

"All this is for me?" he said, staring at his plate.

"Yes, it is," Sherlock said, then looked concerned. "Why? Is it too much?"

"No," John answered with a smile. "It's wonderful, Sherlock. Thank you. Although," he added as he shoveled a forkful of cheesy scrambled eggs into his mouth. "I have to ask, since when did you become such a good cook?"

"It's quite simple really," Sherlock answered. "After you disappeared I...let's just say I was in a dark place for a while. Eventually though, Molly slapped some sense into me." Sherlock smiled, and there was pain in his eyes. "I realized that even if you were never able to come back, I had to start behaving as though you would. Anything, if it would only take my mind off..." He paused. 

"Off what?" John asked quietly.

"Never mind," Sherlock said. "It doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're back."

John smiled. "So am I."


	4. Nightmares

It was late into a rainy night in the middle of November when Sherlock suddenly found himself wide awake in bed. For a split second he lay there confused, before realizing that the reason for his rude awakening was the fact that the duvet that once covered him was gone and that he could hear a series of panicked whimpers coming from the floor on the right side of the bed. In an instant he was wide awake, scrambling to the other side of the bed and looking over the side.

On the floor, John lay in a mess of tangled sheet and duvet, struggling to free himself from the fabric. Unfortunately, his violent struggling and kicking was only making the situation worse. But the thing that scared Sherlock most was the terrible scared noises that John was making.

He had to do something, fast.

Quickly, he climbed off the bed and crouched beside John. Then, placing his hands firmly on John's arms to keep him from struggling anymore, he spoke.

"John! John, wake up! Wake up!"

It took a few seconds, but John had soon woken from his nightmare. However, just a moment after making eye contact with Sherlock he began to cry, his body shaking with sobs. Sherlock didn't say anything, but held John against him, rubbing soothing circles on the back of John's head.

Eventually, he was able to help John untangle himself. They laid back down on the bed together, and Sherlock tugged the bed covers over them, feeling his teeth chatter slightly from being exposed to the cool night air. John was clearly affected too, because he wriggled backward into Sherlock's embrace, desperate to feel Sherlock's reassuring warmth. Sherlock drew his arms around John, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles on John's back.

"It was him again, wasn't it? You saw him again."

John's only response was a nod. Sherlock tightened his arms around John, his low voice a reassuring sound in the darkness of the room.

"It's all right now," Sherlock whispered. "I'm here. He can't hurt you anymore."

"Sherlock?" John mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, John."

"Thank you."

Sherlock smiled.


	5. Sick

The first thing that John was aware of that morning was the terrible headache that made his skull feel like it was splitting. Trying to sit up only made the situation worse as a sudden wave of nausea almost made him empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Shutting his eyes, he gingerly laid back down as his head throbbed with pain.

Luckily for John, he wouldn't be left alone to suffer through this sudden bout of flu for long. A few minutes later, there came a quiet knock on his door followed by Sherlock's voice.

"John?"

John tried to answer, but all that came out was a weak groan.

Without another word, Sherlock entered the room. John could hardly summon the energy to open his eyes, but he didn't have to to be aware of Sherlock's sudden acute concern for him.

"John, what is it?" he said. "What's wrong?"

John opened his mouth, but instead of words all that came out was a series of terrible dry coughs that left the inside of his throat raw and stinging. Alarmed, Sherlock felt his forehead and quickly stepped back when he realized that it was burning.

"Stay here," he said. "Don't try to get up. I'll be right back."

John let out an indignant huff of air through his nostrils as Sherlock left the room. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Of course he wasn't going to try getting up when he felt like this! Did Sherlock honestly think him an idiot?

After several agonizing minutes during which John managed to extricate himself from his blankets, Sherlock had returned from the kitchen. Although his nose was stuffy, John could just barely detect the smell of toast. Even though he had no appetite, he knew that it would be pointless to turn down food. With some help from Sherlock, he was able to sit up. Sherlock then handed him his plate, which not only had two pieces of toast but also a skinned orange, a glass of water, a small pill for his headache, and a small measurement of Pepto-Bismol.

Grimacing from his headache, John murmured his thanks before quickly downing the medicine first. It tasted horrible, but as a doctor he knew better than anyone that it was a vital part in becoming well again. Besides, he'd soon be rid of the terrible after-taste thanks to the nice breakfast Sherlock had made for him. He was particularly glad for the orange, as a helping of Vitamin C would certainly help his immune system recover sooner.

While John sat quietly eating, Sherlock remained sitting beside him. He was relieved that John was still able to consume solid food without much trouble, but he felt he should stick close by just in case.

He was still finding it hard to believe that John was really back. Even though it had been almost a week since John's return, Sherlock still couldn't shake off the nagging worry in the back of his mind that he'd one day wake up to find John had disappeared again, this time forever. It was a truly terrifying thought, but he was slowly learning that such a thing would never happen, that John was never going to be taken away again.

What really bothered him though was the clear toll the incident had taken on John's health. Ever since his return he'd been more susceptible to cold, and now it was clear that his immune system had been compromised as well. This made Sherlock worried. If John was this badly affected, who knew what other problems might have been caused by the event?

"Sherlock?" John said, breaking into his thoughts. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Sherlock answered with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me." Noticing John's now empty plate and cup, he took them and stood up. "Try to get some rest now. I'll let you know when lunch is ready."

He quickly turned away and left the room. John watched him go, feeling a mix of confusion and concern. He had a feeling that Sherlock was hiding something, and he was determined to find out what.


	6. A Talk

One day after solving a case involving a triple murder homicide, John and Sherlock returned to 221 Baker Street under a steady drizzle of rain. During the cab ride back, John couldn't help glancing at Sherlock every few minutes out of the feeling of unease in his stomach. Now they were both seated in their armchairs inside the flat, each lost in their own thoughts.

In the weeks following John's return, a change had come over Sherlock. For starters, he had devoted an extraordinary amount of time to looking after John, even going as far as serving him meals in bed. While the change was pleasant and John enjoyed it all, (Sherlock was an amazing cook) he couldn't shake the feeling that Sherlock was keeping something from him. Whatever it was, John knew that it was affecting Sherlock deeply. There had been several times now when he'd caught Sherlock looking at him when he thought John wouldn't notice. Come to think of it, he'd hardly let John out of his sight since the day he'd come home.

John felt something in his heart twist. Clearly, Sherlock was still finding it hard to believe that John was back, that John was staying. John may have had a worse time of it, but it was obvious that Sherlock had suffered just as much if not more so when John had been taken away. Hell, Sherlock must have been absolutely terrified. 

After a few more minutes of thinking carefully on the matter, John decided that there was nothing for it. He was going to ask Sherlock what was wrong, regardless of whatever his answer might be.

His mind made up, John was about to speak when Sherlock stood up. He moved towards John, stopping in front of him. What startled John- what made his chest tighten -was the look on Sherlock's face. He couldn't remember a time when Sherlock had looked so somber; like a terrible weight rested on him as he knelt in front of John. Instinctively John put his arms around Sherlock's shoulders as Sherlock embraced him, offering comfort. After a few seconds of silence, Sherlock spoke.

"I'm giving up being a detective."

"W-What?"

For a split second, John was sure he'd misunderstood. Sherlock Holmes not wanting to be a detective anymore? Surely this was a joke, right? But as Sherlock turned his face upward, John knew that this was definitely _not_ a joke.

"You're serious?"

"Yes," Sherlock answered, his voice quiet.

"But- but why?" John said. "I thought you loved being a detective."

"I do," Sherlock admitted. "But I love you even more, John. That's why I've decided I can't do it anymore. It's putting you at risk and I can't bear the thought of losing you again. I've already told Greg my intentions to resign," he added as John opened his mouth. "My mind's made up, John. I'm not taking any more chances."

"So what are you planning to do instead?"

"I've had a talk with Mycroft about that," Sherlock answered. "He was able to pull a few strings and got me a position as a chemistry professor at one of the universities. This time next month, I'll be starting there."

"You've spent a lot of time planning this, haven't you?" John said.

"Yes."

"There's something else you wanted me, isn't there?" said John. "What is it?"

Sherlock raised his head. His eyes locked onto John's.

"Marry me, John."


	7. Cuddles & Comfort

Sherlock sat down carefully on the couch, wincing slightly at the pressure put on his bruises. John sat next to him, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, shivering. But Sherlock understood. Ever since his return from Russia, John had been acutely sensitive to any drop in temperature. The result was that even with the thick wool blanket he'd wrapped around himself, he was still chilled. It would be months before he readjusted to London's weather.  
In the meantime, Sherlock wasn't sure how much longer he could bear seeing John this way. He had to do something. Anything. Slowly, he inched closer along the couch. Once he was close enough, he reached out and tugged John onto his lap. John opened his eyes in surprise, but he made no objection. He sat in Sherlock's lap, Sherlock's arms around his middle. To Sherlock's relief, his shivering had subsided to the point where it was hardly noticeable.  
  
  


"That's better now, isn't it?" he said quietly.  
  
  


John nodded silently. His eyes were closed again, and he seemed to be relaxing in the warmth of Sherlock's body. Carefully, Sherlock turned until they were lying along the length of the couch. John made a soft noise of appreciation, and mere moments later he was asleep.

  
For a while, Sherlock was content to watch him, occasionally smoothing the hair on the top of John's head. Now and then John would shift against him, and each time his cheek rubbed Sherlock's belly, as though John were attempting to burrow deeper into his warmth. At such times Sherlock was torn between amusement and affection, though more often he succumbed to the latter. It was here in these quiet moments that he was reminded just how much he loved John; what a relief it was to have him here, safe at last. Sherlock closed his eyes. The warm pressure of John's body, the gentle sound of his breathing, was making him feel drowsy. As much as he didn't want to miss anything, Sherlock couldn't help himself. Just as he began to drift off, he heard his phone vibrating on the coffee table. Reluctantly, he opened an eye and reached for it.  
He had been expecting a call from Lestrade, so he was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a text message from Molly instead.  
  
  
  
 _Hey. How's it going?_ -MH  
  
  
 _We're fine. John fell asleep a little while ago._ -SH  
  
  
Before sending the next message, Sherlock took a quick picture of John with his phone.  
  
  
 _My angel._ -SH  
  
  
 _How sweet. Well, I've got to go. See you soon._ -MH  
  
  
Sherlock turned off his phone, yawning, and placed it back on the coffee table. As he moved, John stirred again, and Sherlock felt a corresponding rush of affection. Once again he smoothed the hair back from John's face, and shut his eyes again. Within moments, he was asleep.


	8. Pants On Fire

The door burst open.  
  
  


" _Discord_ ," Twilight said in a stern voice. "What is the meaning of this?"  
  
  


The draconequus howled with laughter.  
  
  


"Oh Twilight! You simply _must_ see this!"  
  
  


From his upside down position on the ceiling, Sherlock screamed, " _NO_! DON'T LISTEN TO HIM! _PLEASE_! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!"  
  
  


Discord ignored him. He tapped Sherlock on the head. Instantly, Sherlock's hair and skin turned grey, and his face changed from horror to an annoyed scowl.  
  
  


"Now then, do you remember what were talking about, Sherlock?" Discord asked.  
  
  


Sherlock glared at him and said nothing.  
  
  


"About your buddy, John?"  
  
  


"Damn it, Discord! It's like I told you! I don't indulge in fantasies about him! Not now, not ever! I also never sneak looks at that tight little arse of his!"  
  
  


John was stunned. "He's...there's no way he's..."  
  
  


"OH MY CELESTIA!" Pinkie yelled. "HE'S _LYING_!"  
  
  


"No I'm not!" Sherlock snapped. "I'm being perfectly honest!"  
  


At this statement, Spike, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash collapsed to the ground, almost crying with mirth. Rarity looked scandalized. Apple Jack and Fluttershy suddenly seemed preoccupied with examining the ground beneath their hooves. Twilight narrowed her eyes at Discord, and John... he just stared at the scene before him, with eyes as big as dinner plates. After a full minute of ruckus laughter, Twilight cleared her throat loudly.  
  
  


"All right Discord, that's enough fun for one-"  
  
  


A pillow materialized out of nowhere and soared across the room, hitting Twilight square in the face. Twilight dislodged it with a firm shake of her head, her frown deepening to a scowl as she spat feathers from her mouth.  
  
  


"We haven't gotten to the best part yet!" Discord said, wagging a talon at her.  
  
  


He whispered something in Sherlock's ear, and the answer Sherlock screamed made John's ears turn red.  
  
  


"Handcuffs...the bed...having my way with..."  
  


Sherlock's eyes shrank to pinpricks, and he cried out in absolute horror.  
  
  


" _NOOO_!" he wailed. "I WOULD _NEVER_ USE HANDCUFFS ON JOHN LIKE THAT! WHAT SORT OF DEPRAVED PERVERT DO YOU THINK I AM?!? NOW PUT ME DOWN THIS MINUTE!!!"  
  
  


"You heard him, Discord!" Twilight said coldly. "Put him down. _Now_."  
  
  


It was only then that she realized John had turned away and was making his way to the door. By the time she'd turned around to call out to him, John had already left the room.  
  
Cold silence filled the whole room. Twilight took a deep breath, and exhaled softly despite the anger that was going through her. Apple Jack, as ever, wasted no time in scolding the lord of chaos.  
  
  


"Well, _way_ to go, Discord," she said sarcastically. "Now you've gone and upset him."  
  
  


.....

Following the incident, no one could have predicted what was to take place over the next few days. Things carried on as usual, though there was now definitely a tangible feeling of awkwardness each time that Sherlock and John were in the same room together. They mostly communicated now in monotonous sentences or by simple nods of acknowledgement. Rather than step in and attempt to help fix the problem as she normally would have, Twilight instead wisely took a back seat to the current dilemma and advised her friends not to try and pressure John or Sherlock into addressing the problem for fear of escalating an already dreadfully awkward situation. Little did they know, however, that John had already begun quietly concocting a most devious scheme to get to the bottom of how Sherlock truly felt about him.

  
The day that it began was just as the previous week had been. Twilight was quietly sitting in her library reading a book. Not too far away, Sherlock also had his face hidden behind a thick volume, though his mind wasn't on the words written on the pages. Instead, he was peering surreptitiously over the top at John, who seemed to be looking for a specific kind of book as his eyes scanned the shelf in front of him.  
  
  
  
  
"Twilight," he said finally, making sure that Sherlock could hear him clearly from across the room. "Where did you say the _**Dr. Neighlson's Complete Guide to The Equestrian Anatomies**_ was?"  
  
  
  
  
If Sherlock had been drinking tea, there was a high probability that he would have spat it out in shock. His eyes narrowed, and he glared silently at John. What on earth was he up to?  
  
  
  
  
"Column D, Section 1, or as others may refer to it, the Critical Care Knowledge section. Right there," she added, pointing without looking to a shelf directly to John's left.  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, thanks." John carefully took the book from its shelf and went to sit at one of the tables, noting with quiet amusement the suspicious glare that Sherlock wasn't even bothering to hide behind the ridiculously large book he was holding in front of his face. It took a great deal of self restraint, but John managed to make it back to his seat without bursting into a fit of hysteric giggles. This was going much better than he thought it would.  
  
  
  
  
For a while after that, things were quiet in the library again. John steadily searched the book's index until he found the chapter he was looking for: _**Unicorn Anatomy: An In-Depth Look At Equestria's Intellectuals and Magic Users.**_

After finding the beginning page number of the chapter reading a few pages, John spoke up again. It was a struggle to keep himself from laughing, but he managed to keep his voice calm.  
  
  


"Excuse me, Twilight?"  
  
  


"Yes, John?"  
  
  


"There's a paragraph here that says unicorn horns are... _sensitive_?" Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Sherlock's face turn a bright shade of red as the dots quickly connected themselves in Sherlock's mind. It took all the strength John could muster just to keep a casual tone; he felt half mad from the effort of holding his laughter in. "I was wondering if perhaps you could explain to me why that is?"  
  
  


"Yes, they're quite sensitive indeed," answered Twilight, looking up from her book. "It's mainly due to the fact that they're what connects us to the magical forces in our world. It's also the reason many unicorns go for horn filing, because naturally having longer horns means challenging the Princess' authority. Also, the larger a horn is, the more powerful the magic the individual is capable of performing, though as I've said before, magic always has the potential to be dangerous, so practice is key..."  
  
  


And so Twilight continued to go on and on about unicorn horns, not noticing that both John and Sherlock had long since stopped paying attention and were now locked in a silent staring contest. Sherlock, for his part, was feeling incredibly embarrassed and flustered at what John was implying, and John was practically squealing with glee on the inside about the reaction he was getting. Even so, John was careful not to let his emotions show on his face. It would ruin the fun, and besides, they'd only just started. So instead he flattened his ears against his skull looked at Sherlock with the purest, innocent smile he could muster and said " _What_?"  
  
  


It felt as though someone had struck Sherlock in the gut with a metal bat. That expression on John's face. _God in heaven..._ he thought. _Oh sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus... **Help** me!_  
  
He hadn't wanted to believe it at first, but he now knew beyond a shadow of doubt what was happening.  
  
 _ **John Watson** was **flirting** with him!_  
  
The revelation was so shocking that for once, Sherlock Holmes was at a complete loss for words.  
  
  


"And that's all you need to know about-" Twilight stopped speaking abruptly when she saw the expression on Sherlock's face. "Um- have I missed something?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
  


"No!" Sherlock and John answered at the same time. John was grinning broadly as he said it, but Sherlock looked as though he were ready to collapse.  
  
  


"I-" Sherlock stammered. "E-Excuse me."  
  
  


He quickly stood up and left the room. Twilight stared after him confused before turning to John.  
  
  


"Erm...What just happened, exactly?"  
  
  


John just shrugged and grinned at her. "No idea."


	9. Pants On Fire Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John seduces Sherlock.

John was sitting across from Sherlock in the castle library again. The two were completely alone this time, Twilight having left for Sweet Apple Acres, and Spike was currently away in Canterlot. Sherlock was trying his best not to look at John, who had been quietly staring at him for the past fifteen minutes, not saying a word as he sat perfectly still.  
  
In spite of himself, Sherlock was beginning to feel uneasy. John had never been this quiet for this long in all the time Sherlock had known him. The result was that as the time slowly ticked by, Sherlock's anxiety grew until finally, he turned his head to look at John and demand what the problem was- only to immediately recoil in shock when he came face to face with the army doctor. Somehow, John had managed to cross the room without the slightest noise, catching Sherlock completely off guard in the process; his front hooves planted firmly on the armrests of the comfortable chair Sherlock was seated in, his breath warm on Sherlock's face.  
  
And the look in his eyes- oh God the look in his eyes. Sherlock found himself frozen, unable to move or look away as his heart beat frantically against his chest, never imagining that having John this close would be so erotic.  
  
  


"So you like bondage do you?"  
  
  
The question was so unexpected that it took a moment before Sherlock realized what John had said. He could feel the heat in his face and cursed himself mentally for doing something so embarrassing.  
  
  


"W-What?"  
  
  
"What you said before with Discord," John prompted, his eyes now fixed on Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock could feel one of John's hooves on his left thigh now; the movements of it were slow and teasing, making Sherlock bite his tongue in an attempt to ignore the sensation. "You denied having erotic fantasies about me involving bondage. So what I want to know is..." Sherlock could feel the heat of John's lips against his neck; mouthing at the skin with each word. "Do you really? Or were you actually telling the truth?" When Sherlock didn't immediately respond, he chuckled. "I know, I know. It's not easy to answer questions when someone's in your personal space now is it?"  
  
  


Sherlock couldn't take it any longer.  
  
  


"ALL RIGHT FINE, YOU WIN!" he shouted, his face burning. "YES, I DO HAVE EROTIC FANTASIES ABOUT YOU! I HAVE SINCE I MET YOU! NOW PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JOHN, JUST-"  
  
  


John kissed Sherlock, his mouth moving against the unicorn's with hunger and determination while he simultaneously pulled himself up onto Sherlock's lap, his legs now straddling Sherlock's; pressing Sherlock back against the chair with the force of his mouth, his hooves cradling Sherlock's neck.  
  
Sherlock closed his eyes, savoring the taste of John's lips on his, the warm weight of John's body pressing hungrily against him.

  
He heard himself moan and pushed his hips up closer against the weight of John, whimpering, desperate for friction against his trapped erection.  
  
John pulled back slightly, his mouth returning to the soft skin of Sherlock's throat. He started to kiss his way down Sherlock's throat, pausing to suck the occasional love bite until he reached the dip in Sherlock's collar bone.  
  
He paused for a moment, considering what he was about to do next.  
  
  


"Sherlock." John's voice was thick.  
  
  


Something in his tone made Sherlock open his eyes and look at him, feeling a shiver of arousal go down his spine.  
  
  


"I want you to come in my mouth," John said. His blue eyes were hungry, full of intent. "I want to know what you taste like after you've gone over the edge."  
  
  


Perhaps it was due to their unbridled desire for one another that neither Sherlock or John had registered the sound of Twilight's hooves approaching the library until. They literally only had a second's warning as Twilight called out "Guys, I'm back!"  
  
  


**_Oh._ **   
  
  


**_Shit._ **

  
For a split second, both Sherlock and John were frozen in place. The next, they'd separated themselves from one another and had both hidden themselves from sight behind the large book shelves.  
  
Twilight entered the library less than a moment later, her smile instantly turning to a puzzled frown when she realized the library was devoid of occupants. After a few moments, Twilight shrugged and exited the room, closing the door behind her.  
  
  


Behind the bookshelf, John let out a sigh of relief.  
  
  


That had been far too close for comfort.  
  
  


John stepped backward, freezing as his rump came into contact with Sherlock's front. Before he could even moved, Sherlock had somehow pulled John upright and turned him around so that they were both standing on their hind legs, John's back pressed hard against the cold surface of the crystal shelf. This new turn of events meant that Sherlock had John completely at his mercy; trapped against the wall like a pinned butterfly.

"You didn't think I'd let you out of it that easily, did you?"


	10. Parent!lock: Bedtime Stories

Late one evening after John had come home from the hospital, he was making his way up the stairs when he heard voices coming from Artemis's bedroom. Smiling to himself, he moved closer to listen in.

"Which one would you like me to read?" Sherlock was saying. "The Hobbit, or Watership Down?"

After a moment's pause, John heard Artemis answer. "I want to know what happens to Bilbo after he goes into the dragon's lair."

So Sherlock had decided to read bedtime stories to Artemis again, had he? John smirked with amusement. Tapping his knuckles softly on the door frame, he poked his head around the corner.

"Mind if I join you two?" he said, grinning.

"Daddy!" Artemis said happily. He quickly scrambled out of bed and ran to John, who had already knelt to embrace his son. 

Sherlock smiled at both of them. Once Artemis was happily settled in John's lap, he said "All right, shall I start now?"

"Yes, please!" Artemis said, hugging his stuffed bunny to his chest.

After taking a moment to find the right page, Sherlock began.

" _He was altogether alone. Soon, he thought it was beginning to feel warm._ _Is that a kind of glow I seem to see, coming from right down there? he thought._

 _It was. As he went forward it grew and grew, until there was no doubt about it. It was a red light, steadily getting redder, and redder. Also, it was now undoubtedly hot in the tunnel. Wisps of vapor floated up and past him, and he began to sweat._ _A sound, too, began to throb in his ears. A sort of bubbling, like the noise of a large pot galloping on the fire, mixed with a rumble as of a giant tom cat purring. This grew to the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its sleep down there in the red glow in front of him._ "

It was at this point that Sherlock paused. Even though he'd only been reading for a few minutes, the soothing deepness of his voice had lulled Artemis to sleep. Quietly, Sherlock closed the book and set it on the bedside table. Without a word, he and John tucked Artemis into bed. Artemis stirred slightly, but didn't wake up. Pausing momentarily to kiss him on the cheek, Sherlock and John left the room. After turning out the light and closing the door, they walked away toward their bedroom.


	11. It All Started With A Vase....

In the pristine school known as Ouran Academy, an honor student by the name of John Watson was wandering through the hallways. He had set out to find a quiet place to study; a task easier said than done even in a school like this. When he'd gone to the school's library, he'd found it far too crowded. Not keen on possibly finding himself having to talk with any of the other students, John had decided that he might have better luck searching for an empty classroom.

After getting lost several times, John found an empty music room. He sighed with relief.

"Finally, some place quiet," he muttered as he opened the doors.

Had John had any idea of the events that would unfold after he entered that room, odds were good that he would have turned and ran in the other direction like a bat out of Hell. But he didn't know, so he entered.

"Welcome!"

John froze where he stood, struggling to come to terms with what he was seeing. 

Standing before him were six boys. Even though John had never seen them before, there was an unshakable feeling of de ja vu that had stolen over him.

"Who the Hell _are_ you people?" John squeaked.

"Well now, funny you should ask," said the tall one with short dark hair. "We are the Ouran Host Club. I'm Mycroft Holmes, this here is Hunter Lockwood-" he gestured to the man on his left. Hunter looked at John, with no change in the stoic expression he wore. "This is Artemis-" Mycroft said, indicating the small blonde youth who stood in front of Hunter. The boy smiled brightly at John and waved. "These two gentlemen here are Jim and Jay, the Moriarty twins-" The twins leered mischievously at John, their dark eyes boring into John. "Which leaves-"

"Me," the last host club member said. Unlike the others, he was seated in an elegant chair. His hair was dark brown with hints of auburn, and his pale body was lean and and thin. The host club member smiled at John, eyes opening to reveal irises as blue as the oceans only seen in the tropics. "Sherlock Holmes, the Ouran Host Club king."

By now, the sense of de ja vu and confusion had become too much for poor John. _This is getting way too weird! I've got to get out of here!_ Vainly he tried to open the doors of the music hall, but the handles refused to budge. _Damn it! Why won't these handles work?!?_

"Yes," Mycroft was saying. "Welcome to the Ouran Host Club, Mr. Honor Student."

"That's right! I thought I recognized you from somewhere!" Sherlock said. "You must be John Watson! You're the exceptional honor student we've heard about!"

At the mention of this, John froze. Slowly, he peered over his shoulder at the host club members.

"H-How did you know my name?" he said.

"Why, you're infamous," Mycroft said. "After all, it's not every day that some _**commoner**_ gains entrance into our academy! You must have an audacious nerve to work hard enough to fight your way into _this_ school, Mr. Watson!"

John twitched. _**Commoner?** **Audacious nerve?** Is this guy for **real**?_ But he didn't want to be rude, so he muttered, "Gee. Thanks."

"Your welcome!" said Sherlock, who had left his chair to give John a friendly pat on the back. "You're a hero to other poor people, Watson!" John cringed at the word "poor". "You've shown the world that even a poor person can excel at an elite private academy!" At this point, John attempted to move away, but to his dismay Sherlock only followed him, still talking. "It must be hard for you to constantly be looked down upon by others!"

"I think you guys are taking this 'poor' thing way too far," John mumbled.

Sherlock appeared not to have heard him. "Spurned, neglected! But it doesn't matter now. Long live the poor!" he declared. "We welcome you, poor man, to our world of _beauty_!"

"That's it, I'm out of here!" John said as he moved towards the doors.

"Hey, come back here, John!" Artemis said, pulling John's arm. "You must be like a super hero or something, huh?"

"I'm not a hero," John mumbled. "I'm just a regular honor student." Then, realizing that Artemis was still holding onto his arm he snapped, "Now let go of my arm already!"

"Oh, sorry!" Artemis said. He quickly did as John said and went to stand by Hunter again.

"I never would have imagined that our famous scholar...would be so openly _gay_ ," Sherlock said abruptly.

At the word "gay," John twitched violently. Turning his head towards Sherlock, eyes narrowing in anger. "I'm not gay!" he growled.

"Of course you're not!" said the twins, each slapping John on the back. "You're in denial!"

Something about their smiles made John's heart drop into his stomach. _These twins are creepy!_ he thought. 

"So, tell me what kind of guy you're into!" Sherlock said. "Do you like the strong, silent type like Hunter? The mischievous? The boy Lolita type, like Artemis? Or maybe you like the _cool_ type!"

"I-It's not anything like that!" John spluttered, now backing away as Sherlock moved towards him. "I was just trying to find a quiet place to study!"

"Or maybe..." Sherlock said, his face now inches from John's. "You're into men like _me_ , hmm?"

John quickly stepped back from Sherlock, feeling his face turn red with embarrassment. Unfortunately, in his haste to get away he overbalanced and fell backward, upsetting the carved wooden end table with an exquisite renaissance vase placed atop it. Realizing his fatal error a second too late, John made a grab for it, but it slipped through his fingers and shattered upon the floor. Cold horror engulfed John as he leaned over the end table, staring at the mess of shards. Within a few minutes, things had gone from a bit not good to a complete disaster.

"Aww!" the twins sighed in frustration. 

"We were going to feature that renaissance vase at an upcoming school auction!" grumbled Jim.

"Oh now you've done it, commoner," said Jay. "The bidding for that vase was supposed to start at _**sixty million pounds!**_ "

" _WHAT?!? **SIXTY MILLION POUNDS**?!?_" John screamed. "Um... I'm... gonna have to pay you back..." he mumbled. Though truthfully, John honestly wished for nothing more than for the ground to open beneath him and to be swallowed in a black abyss. _Who am I kidding? I'll never be able to pay them off!_

The twins seemed to read his mind as they smirked at each other. "With what money? You can't even afford a school uniform!"

"What's with that grubby outfit you've got on, anyway?" said Jay. 

Meanwhile, Mycroft had plucked one of the shards of the vase off the floor and was looking at it carefully.

"What do you think we should do, Sherlock?" he said coolly.

"Good question, Mycroft!" said Sherlock, "There's a famous saying for this sort of thing. One I'm sure you're familiar with, Watson: When in Rome you should do as the Romans do."

"W-What does that mean?" John squeaked nervously.

Sherlock smiled at him. "It means that seeing as you have no money to pay us with, you can pay with your body! Starting today, you're the host club's dog!"

_Oh God. Kill me. Just kill me, now!_ John thought. _Please, somebody help me!_

With this last thought, John toppled to the floor in shock.


	12. It's Commoner's Coffee!

"Sherlock, may I have a word with you?" 

"Yes, Irene, what is it?"

"I recently heard that the host club is keeping a little _kitten_ without a _pedigree_!"

Sherlock laughed. "I don't believe _kitten_ is a word I'd use to describe, John, my dear."

"My, Sherlock. Already on a first name basis, are we?"

While Irene's tone betrayed no hint of hostility, Sherlock could feel the irritation radiating from her. _Why is she asking about John anyway?_ he wondered. _What threat could a man like John possibly mount against her?_

Then he noticed John approaching with a bag of groceries. "Speak of the devil, here he comes now!"

Without waiting for Irene's response, Sherlock stood up and walked over to John, giving him an affectionate pat on the head. 

"Thanks for doing the shopping, little piglet! Did you make sure to get everything we asked for?"

_Piglet? What the Hell?_ John thought.

"Wait a second, what is this?" Sherlock asked, staring at the box instant coffee he was holding.

"Just what it looks like," John answered. "It's instant coffee."

"I've never seen this brand before," remarked Sherlock. "Is it the kind that's already ground?"

"What are you talking about?" John was starting to feel annoyed now. "It's _instant_ coffee."

This statement was followed up by all the female guests staring curiously at John. "It's _instant_?" they repeated.

"Wait a minute, I've heard of this stuff before!" exclaimed Sherlock. " _It's **commoner's** coffee!_ You just add hot water!"

By this time quite a crowd was gathering around Sherlock and John. All marveling that such a thing as instant coffee even existed.

"I didn't even know there was such a thing!" said one guest.

"So it's true then! Poor people don't even have enough free time to grind their own coffee beans!" gasped another.

This earned an audible "MMHMM!" from all the other ladies gathered around.

"Commoners are pretty smart," remarked Mycroft. 

"A hundred grams for just a few pounds?" asked Jim. 

"Yeah! That's a lot less than we normally pay!" said Jay.

At this point John was fed up with this nonsense. "I'll go back and get something else," he grumbled. " _Excuse_ me for not buying you guys expensive coffee!"

Sherlock held up a hand. "No. That won't be necessary, John. I'll drink it." Then, holding the instant coffee aloft he declared, "I will drink this coffee to the last drop!"

Much to John's irritation, everyone applauded Sherlock's announcement. _These damn rich people!_ he thought.

"All right, enough standing around!" Sherlock said, walking over to the serving area. "John! Get over here and make some of this commoner's coffee!"

"Oh, Sherlock." It was Irene's voice that John heard, for only they remained where the others had been a moment before. "Now you're taking the joke too far. Your pallet won't be able to handle that _**commoner's** crap_. You don't have to drink it just because your little _errand dog_ was _stupid_ enough to buy it!" Looking up at John, she smiled. "Oh, pardon me. I was talking to myself."

_The bloody Hell was that for?_ John wondered as he went to prepare the coffee.

.....

A few minutes later, the coffee was ready and each of the guests -including the host club members- had each been given their own cup of instant coffee.

"Let the tasting begin!" said Sherlock.

"I'm a bit scared to drink this stuff," said one girl.

"I'm worried if I drink this my father will yell at me for it," said another.

"Well, my dear," Sherlock said as he came to her side. "What if I let you drink from my mouth?"

"Then I _would_ drink it!" the woman said, now on the verge of swooning.

This was met by a chorus of excited shrieks from the crowd of girls gathered around them. _Good grief,_ John thought as he walked away. _What's with these people?_


	13. John Becomes An Ouran Host!

Later, John found himself watching a group of girls fawning of Artemis and how adorable he was.

"I don't see what the big deal is," he said.

"Artemis may seem young and childish, but he's a prodigy. And Hunter's M.O. is his strong and silent disposition."

"Um-"

Whatever John was going to say, he never got the chance. At that moment Artemis came bounding over to him, talking excitedly as he nearly tackled John to the floor with a hug.

"Hey John, want to share a piece of cake with me?" he said, grinning up into John's face.

"Uh, thanks..." John gasped, trying to get his breath back. "But... I'm not... h-hungry at the moment."

"Then would you like to hold my friend Lancelot for a bit?" Artemis asked, holding up the white stuffed rabbit he always carried with him.

"Uhh..."

John started at the stuffed animal. After a few seconds he said "Sure. I mean he is rather cute."

Artemis beamed. "Okay! Take good care of him all right?"

With that he handed the bunny over and skipped away back to where Hunter was waiting with some guests.

"You'll notice that our club utilizes each man's characteristics to cater to the desires of our guests," Mycroft said to John. "Just so you know, my brother Sherlock is number one around here. He's the king. His request rate is seventy percent."

"What is this world even coming to?" John muttered with bemusement.

"And in order to pay off your _**sixty million** debt_ with us," Mycroft went on with a now slightly threatening tone of voice, "You will act as the Ouran Club's dog until you graduate!"

It was then that Mycroft opened his eyes and fixed John with a piercing look. John swallowed nervously. Then Mycroft smiled and went on speaking.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I meant to say our errand boy. Oh, and if you have any thoughts of running away, you should know that my family employs a private police force of one hundred officers. Also," he added casually. "You don't happen to have a passport, do you?"

_So in other words, I'm never getting out of here!_ John thought. He honestly wasn't sure if things could get any worse. He found he was hugging the stuffed rabbit a little too tightly now against his chest.

"Yeah, it's going to take a lot of hard work to pay off that debt!" Sherlock said.

John jumped- he hadn't even heard Sherlock approach.

"Please don't sneak up on me like that," he said.

"You know John, I've been thinking," Sherlock said. "We've got to do something about your appearance. No girl will look at you twice, otherwise."

"I'm not trying to get their attention anyway," John muttered.

"You're kidding!" Sherlock exclaimed. "That's the most important thing in the world, John! You must learn to be a gentleman and please the ladies, like _moi!_ "

"I don't think it's all that important, that's all!" John replied. "Why should I care about appearances? All that really matters is what's inside a person's heart, right? What's even then point of having a club like this?"

"It's a cruel reality, I know," agreed Sherlock. _Idiot missed everything I just said!_ John thought scathingly. "It's not often God creates a perfect person like me after all. Beautiful both inside and out."

"Oh for heaven's sake." John muttered.

Sherlock went on, not noticing John's annoyed expression. "I realize not everyone is as blessed as I am but you must console yourself: otherwise, how could you go on living?"

And so Sherlock went on and on, oblivious to the fact John had stopped paying attention altogether. There's a word used for pricks like him, John thought to himself. What was it? It's something really specific. Then, as Sherlock came striding back over to him, John gave a shout.

"I've got it! _Obnoxious!_ "

Sherlock turned away at that point, looking dejected. This event caused the twins to laugh hysterically. Once again they clapped John on the back, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yep, you're a hero, all right!" the twins giggled.

"Sorry for that, Sherlock," John said quickly. "But you did manage to strike a small chord."

Sherlock turned around, smiling. "Is that so? Would you like to know more?"

"He recovered pretty fast that time," Jay remarked to his brother. "Anyway, boss you can teach him all you like."

"Yeah," said Jim. "But he's not going to get far with the ladies if he looks the way he does forever. Maybe if we remove his glasses it'll help?" he added, taking John's glasses.

"Hey, I need those things!" John objected, not noticing that the twins were now both gawping at him in adoration. "I used to have contacts but I lost them on the first day of school and-"

John was cut off abruptly as John ran over to him, shoving the twins aside with an awe-struck expression.

"Jim! Jay!" he said, snapping his fingers.

"GOT IT, BOSS!" the twins yelled.

"What the- HEY, LET GO!" John yelled.

The twins ignored him. Grabbing John's arms, they whisked him off to the changing rooms.

"Mycroft, call our hair stylist, now!" Sherlock barked. "Hunter, go to the eye doctor and get him some contact lenses!"

"What about me, Sherlock?" Artemis asked.

"Artemis," Sherlock said.

"Yes, sir!"

"You... go eat some cake with Lancelot!"

"Aww man! Why can't I help out?" Artemis grumbled as he walked away.

Meanwhile, the twins had arrived in the changing room with John.

"Put this on!" They said, shoving a high school uniform at him.

"What? Why?" John demanded. "Why are you guys forcing this on me all of a sudden?"

"Don't ask stupid questions!" the twins snapped. "Change, now!"

"Okay fine, but you have to get out first!" John shot back.

"Why?"

John rolled his eyes. Seizing both twins by the back of their necks, he forced them out of the changing room.

"Don't ask stupid questions! And don't come back in until I'm ready!" he snarled before slamming the door on their faces.

"Sheesh!" the twins said. "What made _him_ angry?"

Several minutes later, the other host club members had joined them in waiting.

"John, you ready?" Sherlock called.

The door opened and John stepped out, now dressed in the school's attire.

"So, are you guys sure that it's okay for me to keep this uniform?" he said.

"John you look so adorable in that!" Sherlock said, coming forward to hug John.

Totally bewildered by this, John stood there while the others offered their compliments as well.

"You look so handsome, John!" squeaked Artemis.

"If we'd known that's how you actually look we would have help you out much sooner!" the twins said with mischievous smiles.

"I agree," answered Mycroft. "Who knows, John. Maybe now that you're dressed like a proper gentleman, you might actually attract some customers."

"What a wonderful idea, Mycroft!" Sherlock said, still hugging John tightly. "Our little errand puppy is moving the ranks pretty quickly! Starting today, you're an official member of the host club, John!"

"Wait, what?" John said.

As ever, it seemed Sherlock was only half listening to him.

"I will personally train you to be a first-rate host!" he announced. "If you can get at least a hundred customers to request you, then we'll completely forget about your sixty million debt! Isn't that amazing?"

"A _host_?" John repeated.


	14. Slightly Dampened Spirits

_**Later...** _

John was sitting at a table, three women opposite him. Mycroft had been right: the moment John had been dressed like a proper gentleman, it had only taken maybe three minutes before several girls were asking to _please_ have a chance to spend time with him. Although John was flustered and rather flattered by their reactions, he was having trouble trying to come up with the right things to say as the girls peppered him with questions.

"So John, what do you like to do?"

"Yeah, do you have any hobbies?"

"I'm curious: what products do you use on your skin? It's flawless!"

_Shit, what am I supposed to say?_ John thought to himself, feeling slightly panicked. _What am I supposed to do? This is so nerve wracking!_

"So, why did you join the host club, John?" the girls asked.

_Now John was in real trouble._ It's okay, you can do this! he thought. _All I have to do is get a hundred clients and the host club will forget about my debt. But what should I tell them? Wait, I know exactly what to say!_

.....

"I see, so you've been living with your aunt and uncle since both your parents are dead. That must have been very hard for you."

"It hasn't been easy, no," John admitted. "But that's why I'm studying to be a doctor. My father was one and I remember always hearing people say how great he was. So I've decided to carry on the family legacy. Besides, I couldn't let their loss weigh me down forever. They'd want me to go on with my life. So that's what I intend to do."

Not too far away, Sherlock was peering over the back of a couch, his eyes fixed on John with a mix of empathy and admiration. Much like the girls seated with John, he couldn't help admiring the steadfast determination that John had shown, even under what must have been terrible circumstances. More than that though, Sherlock had a feeling that there was more to the story than John was willing to say. For although he was smiling, Sherlock could tell he was actually in a lot of pain. 

His heart seemed to melt inside of his chest, and Sherlock could feel tears in his eyes.

"So, is it okay if we request to see you again tomorrow?" the girls were saying.

"Yeah! I'd appreciate that, thanks!" John answered with a smile.

"He's _good_..." Sherlock murmured as the girls got up and left. He watched John wave goodbye to them, still smiling.

"Quite the natural, I'd say," observed Mycroft.

"To think we were so worried about him," remarked the twins. "Turns out, no training is required!"

"Have you forgotten about me, Sherlock?"

Jolted out of his thoughts, Sherlock quickly turned back to Irene, who was seated next to him.

"Oh, not at all," he said. "I do apologize, Irene. Forgive me, I'm just a bit concerned about our John."

"Well that's obvious," Irene answered. "You've been keeping a close eye on him, haven't you?"

"Of course I have. I'm training him to be a gentleman, like me."

Raising his voice slightly, Sherlock called out, "John! Would you come over here for a minute, please?"

John stood up and walked over to them.

"Need something?" he said.

Sherlock grinned. "John, I'd like to introduce you to someone. This is my regular guest, Irene Adler."

"Charmed," Irene said coldly.

_There it is again!_ Sherlock thought. _Why is she being so hostile towards John?_

_She's that mean girl from earlier!_ John thought to himself. _What's her problem?_ "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Adler!" he said, smiling painfully.

The next instant, John found himself spinning very fast on the spot as Sherlock stood up and seized him in an overexcited hug, whirling himself and John around in a mad display of joy.

" _THAT WAS SO **CUTE** , JOHN_!" he shrieked, completely forgetting for a moment that they were in a room full of people. " _FLAWLESSLY DONE! YOU'RE SO GOOD, **AMAZINGLY** GOOD! DADDY'S SO **PROUD** OF YOU!_"

" _ **Daddy?!?**_ _What the **Hell**?!?_ Let go of me, you bloody lunatic!" John yelled.

Amidst the hilarious chaos that ensued as the host members tried to separate John from Sherlock's vice-like embrace, no one noticed the way Irene's baleful eyes burned into John; resentment and jealousy turning her blood hot with rage.

.....

That afternoon, John discovered that his school bags and other possessions were missing. He soon found out why though, as, as he went to look out of one of the many large windows in the hallway, he saw them floating in a shallow pond on the school's grounds. It seemed that even in a school like this, there were people who weren't above stooping to such low forms of bullying. Running through the long halls to the exit, John noticed Irene standing alone by one window. He was already several feet from her when he heard her speak. This time, Irene didn't bother trying to keep the contempt from her voice.

"Oh, it's _**you**_ again!" she sneered. "I bet you just _love_ all the attention that _**idiot**_ Sherlock has been giving you. You should know that you'll never mean anything to him though. You'll always be a _useless **second class citizen**!_"

John stood there for a long minute after she walked away. _They're all the same,_ he thought. _They don't have a clue who I really am. Second class citizen. Yeah right._

.....

A few minutes later, John was out in the pond, having waded in barefoot to get his belongings out of the water. The only thing that seemed to be missing now was his wallet, which he knew he couldn't afford to lose.

"Hey, John!"

John looked around. Sherlock was standing not too far away, looking concerned. Catching sight of John's wet things, he spoke.

"What happened? How did your things end up in the pond?"

"Um," John said awkwardly. He didn't want Sherlock to know his suspicions about Irene, so he said "I guess I must have dropped them out a window by accident."

Sherlock stared at him.

"John, _please_ don't insult my intelligence by _**lying**_ ," he said. "This wasn't an accident. You didn't do this. Someone's made you their target for harassment. I'm going to find out who they are and why. Now what is it that you're still looking for?"

"Uh, m-my wallet," John answered him. "Uh, hey!" he added quickly as Sherlock took off his socks and shoes and began rolling back his pants. "You don't have to help, you know."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. " _Honestly_. A little water never harmed anything, John. Don't make such a fuss!" Bending down, he plucked John's wallet from the pond. "Ah, here we are! Is this what you were looking for?" Then, noticing John's blank stare he said, "What's wrong, you're staring into space. Not falling for me, are you?" he added mischievously.

"What? No way!" John answered, quickly taking his wallet back.

Above them, Irene stood at window, watching everything. Once again she could feel anger simmering in her blood. _Well played, Watson,_ she mused. _But we're not finished yet. Not at all_.

.....

"Oh my, that must have been dreadful!" she said the next day after hearing about it from the host club members. "I don't know what I might of done if it had been me! How terrible for you!"

What Irene didn't know of course was that her plan hadn't gone as flawlessly as she'd supposed. In fact, the Moriarty twins had seen her dump John's things out the window the previous day, as had Mycroft. It was they who informed Sherlock that John needed help outside, and they had spent the previous afternoon planning how to punish Irene for her premeditated crime. Now she and John were seated together at a table, while the other hosts pretended to be busy with their own clients.

"And you actually made Sherlock retrieve your wallet for you, how astonishing!" Irene mused. "You do realize that he's a first class citizen and not some commoner who serves people, right? The only reason he pays any attention to you at all is because he's trying to make a proper gentleman out of you. Don't think he cares about you just because he's being lavish with his attention."

_That's **it**! _John thought, feeling his blood boil. _I've had it with this bitch and her passive aggressive bull shit!_ Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Sherlock give a subtle nod. _Time to act_. John took a deep breath. 

" _ **Now**_ I understand what the problem is," he said in a flat voice devoid of feeling. "You're _**jealous**_ of me, aren't you."

For a split second, Irene was frozen; her eyes locked onto John's in an expression of bewilderment and horror. Everything after that happened so quickly that no one was sure what happened first: Irene splashing her scalding hot cup of tea in John's face- which thankfully he dodged- Sherlock dashing to John's side; or the twins dumping two pitchers of ice cold water over Irene's head.

Dead silence filled the room as everyone stared at the host club members. Everyone was staring at Sherlock, who had his arms placed protectively over John's shoulders.

"So," he said menacingly, his cold rage filling the room. "You think you can get away with bullying John without us looking; you call me an idiot behind my back; and now you tried to blind our new host with hot tea when he calmly stated the obvious sin you've committed?"

On either side of Sherlock, the twins were shaking their heads and making tutting sounds with visible disgust. "You really shouldn't have been so mean!" they said.

"I am severely disappointed in you, Irene," Sherlock went on. "You of all people should know that nobility is not a birth right. It is determined by one's actions. What you have done here today is nothing short of disgraceful. I'm sure your father is going to be very upset when he finds out about this."

"You don't have any proof that I did anything!" Irene snarled. "Your accusations are based on nothing but emotions and conjecture! Yes, my father will be upset when he hears these baseless accusations!"

"You're wrong!" shouted Artemis. "Mycroft and the twins saw you dump John's stuff in the pond yesterday, you big meanie! You're not fooling anyone!"

Shocked and embarrassed, Irene could only stand there, miserable and sulky in her now totally drenched school clothes.

"Get out," Sherlock hissed. "I never want to see your face here, or anywhere on these school grounds ever again!"

"Fine! I'm leaving!" Irene spat. "I never want to see you again either, Sherlock!"

And she flounced off towards the exit, slamming the doors behind her with a resounding _**THUD**_.

"Good riddance," muttered the twins. 

"So much for being dignified!" Jim snorted. "Did you see the way she marched out? What a joke!"

"I can't believe she actually tried to throw her tea in your face like that," Sherlock said, absentmindedly stroking John's hair. "You could have really been hurt."

"I'm fine guys, really," John mumbled. "You don't need to make such a big fuss over me."

Truth be told though, John was enjoying himself more than he was letting on. There was something comforting about the way Sherlock was acting towards him- it was certainly a welcome change to his over-the-top affection.

"I hate to break up this lovely interaction," Mycroft said. "But we still need to-"

He never finished his sentence. The entire host club was glaring daggers at him. 

"Enough is enough, Mycroft!" they all snarled.

"What are you guys bickering about?" John asked.

"Nothing that you need to worry about!" Sherlock answered. To change the subject he said "I think a fair amount of the water from those pitchers got you too."

"Sorry, we were aiming for Irene. But that's what happens when you're caught in the splash zone!" the twins giggled. 

"Mycroft, be a dear and go fetch a dry uniform, will you?" Sherlock said.

"Whatever you say, Sherlock," answered Mycroft as he walked away.

"We'll get some towels!" the twins volunteered.

_I guess they really do care after all,_ John thought to himself. _Maybe being part of a host club isn't so bad._


	15. The Awful Truth

A little while later, John was in one of the changing rooms, slowly drying his hair with one of the soft white towels the twins had brought.

He was just standing in front of the mirror, not thinking of anything in particular, when the sound of Sherlock's voice and the curtain being pulled back made him turn around in a panic.

"John, I've got a few more towels if you-"

He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as he bore witness to the terrible secret John had been hiding. From the base of John's neck to the small of his back, there were five deep scars running vertical down his spine; the remnants of a tragedy that had occurred years before.

In the few seconds that Sherlock stood before him, John saw too many emotions cross Sherlock's face - horror, confusion, and then finally, terrible heart-wrenching clarity dawned on Sherlock's face and he pressed a hand to his mouth, absolutely mortified.

"Oh. Oh God. I'm so sorry."

Then he was gone, the curtain sliding closed just as quickly as it had been opened.

_At least he didn't scream,_ John thought miserably.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had staggered numbly back to the chair he'd been sitting in, looking pale as a sheet. This was instantly noticed by the rest of the Host Club, along with several of the guests. All were looking at Sherlock with concern in their eyes. Mycroft was the first to act, bending over his brother to shield his face from view as he spoke in a low and urgent voice.

"Sherlock. What is it?"

For a few seconds, Sherlock couldn't answer Mycroft. He was still trying to come to terms with what he'd just seen while at the same time trying to stomach the realization that was now rattling about inside of his skull along with the questions that were now forming at alarming speed.

How had he missed this? How had he not figured this out sooner?

" **Sherlock.** You're crying."

Mycroft's voice was firmer now, breaking into Sherlock's thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the damp quality of his cheeks. Irritably he rubbed them dry with his sleeve; taking a deep breath at the same time to compose himself.

"Should I ask the guests to leave?" Mycroft asked.

"No." Sherlock stood up, with Mycroft quickly moving aside for him. "I'll do it."

Clearing his throat, Sherlock addressed the room at large.

"I'm sorry ladies, but some new information has just been brought to my attention which concerns the Host Club. If you would all kindly exit, I promise the issue will be dealt with promptly."

To a chorus of concerned questions and anxious looks, all the young women who were present quickly left.

All of this was seen by John, who up until now had been peering out at Sherlock from behind the curtain. He was fully dressed now, and as the last of the female students exited the music room, he cautiously stepped out of the changing room.

The first thing he was aware of was Artemis, who had darted forward to hug John around the waist the moment he saw him emerge. John, having not expected this display of affection, was promptly forced to bite the inside of his lip as he felt his eyes begin to water. There was a tightness in his chest which made it hard to breathe, and with every passing second he felt as if he might break down into hysterical tears.

John hated the feeling. It made him feel weak. Yet he couldn't bring himself to push Artemis away. Instead he stood there, awkward, unsure of himself, feeling terribly exposed while Artemis held on to him, the smaller blond boy supporting the older and taller one as John stared at the other host club members, painfully aware of how unsteady his legs were feeling as Artemis spoke to him.

"You'll be alright, John,” Artemis was saying. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”

At these words, John glanced down at Artemis, and felt sudden warmth in his chest as Artemis's blue eyes locked onto his. 

Without realizing it, he found that he was breathing easier now. The tightness in his chest began to subside. 

Artemis must have noticed, because he smiled brightly.

"See, not so bad now huh?" he said. "Come on, let's go sit down."

"...Okay." 

Sitting down on one of the velvet-cushioned sofas, John again felt nervous as he felt the entire group staring at him. Mycroft and Sherlock were seated in armchairs to the right and in front of him, while Jim occupied the seat to the left of Sherlock, facing Mycroft with Jay leaning against Jim's seat on the right side. Both Artemis and Hunter were seated on the couch with John, with Artemis sitting in Hunter's lap with his knees drawn up to his chest.

All were staring at John expectantly now.

Knowing it would be pointless to deny the truth much longer, John took a deep breath which he let out in a low sigh.

However, before he could speak a word Sherlock spoke instead.

"You're one of the heirs to the Watson fortune."

John nodded.

"WAIT! You mean to tell us that you're related to **the _Harris Watson_**?!? The famous surgeon who's saved hundreds of people and has made critical advancements to medical science as we know it?!?" the twins exclaimed.

"Y-Yes..." John said in a low voice. "It's true. I'm one of his heirs."

"But - but then that means that the rumors we heard are-"

"False?" John said. "Yes. It was better to let the public think that we'd all perished that night. If the truth ever became known, if people knew my true identity, the resulting scandal would destroy my family's reputation and all my father's accomplishments would likely be refused any acknowledgement from that point forward."

"Why, though?" Sherlock said quietly. "What happened that night?"

John closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "I don't really remember," he said slowly. "I only know that that night, my father was murdered and that I woke up in the hospital with these on my back."

John stood up then, lifting his shirt so the others could see the scars on his back. By the time he sat down again, the entire host club was in a state of shock. 

All, except Mycroft.

_ Fascinating, _ he thought to himself.  _ Clearly there’s more to John than we could have imagined. It’ll be interesting to see where things go from here. _

"Well, I think we all understand what must be done about this, don't we Sherlock."

"Oh yes," Sherlock answered. "Yes, you're quite right." He looked around at the other host club members, making eye contact with each of them. "We all understand don't we?"

"Absolutely!" said the twins.

"Yes Sherlock!" Artemis answered. Hunter just nodded silently.

"That settles it then," Sherlock said with a slight smile. Making eye contact with John, he went on talking. "Your secret is safe with us John. No one will ever find out who you really are. Not if we have anything to do with it."

John could hardly believe what he was hearing. He stared at Sherlock for a few seconds, before smiling and saying, "Thanks. That means a lot to me. And you should know something, Sherlock."

"Yes John, what is it?"

John hesitated for a second, feeling suddenly shy. "Back there when you all stood up for me - that was... really cool."

Oh... 

**_God_**.

Sherlock pressed a hand against his mouth, feeling the color rush into his face.

_Damn it!_ he thought. _Why does John have to be so cute?_

Beside him, Mycroft smiled - though if Sherlock had been looking at him he would have known Mycroft was actually laughing on the inside. Looking at the others, Mycroft said in what was clearly intended to be a loud whisper, "Correct me if I'm wrong but I think we're witnessing the beginnings of love, here." Then, as Sherlock spluttered and John began to protest, Mycroft and the other host club members laughed.

The fun was only just starting.


End file.
